


Outside Time

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-30
Updated: 2007-10-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes some fatherly advice for Will and Bran to understand their true roles in life after the final battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside Time

**Author's Note:**

> Fathers and sons, as requested! 
> 
> Written for Kara

 

 

January

Merriman visits Will in dreams. It's easier that way.

"How goes it, Old One?"

Will's dream self is more frank than Will would like. "The same. Lonely."

Merriman looks a little younger than Will remembers him, though his hair is still white. They are in Will's dream country, the Thames valley of his childhood, unsullied by motorways.

"You are not alone, Will." Merriman's voice is fond but his eyes are shrewd. "You know that." They seem to be on a river bank. After a moment Will recognises it. Stephen has taken him fishing here, and in return Will took his memories away.

"I might as well be." Will is in his twenties now, but he will always be a child in Merriman's presence. "I can't - do anything. My family are strangers. I can't marry."

"You could," says Merriman, looking surprised and then thoughtful. "I had not thought - well - being out of Time, perhaps I had lost track a little of how it has passed for you. You could marry, I suppose, but it would be difficult."

"It would be a lie, every day."

"Your marriage would not be a lie."

"She would grow old, and die, and I..."

"Yes," agrees Merriman. "That is the case."

Will stares down into the water. "I am not arguing with what I am," he says at last, and Merriman chuckles, indulgent.

"Yes, you are, but that is to be expected." His hand comes down, warm, on Will's shoulder. "It is not an easy task, to be the last. It was not easy to be the first either. So you will find me sympathetic."

"What am I doing here? Why did you leave me behind?"

Merriman releases him and looks him straight in the eye. "Come, Will. You know why. The Dark emerged out of the minds of men, once, and that is how it may emerge again. And you will watch for it, Will, until the end of Time."

"I can't do it alone."

"You can, and you will." Merriman pauses, looking at him and frowning. "There is someone."

Will looks stubbornly back. "What do you mean?"

"You have found somebody. This talk of marriage, Will. It is not idle, is it?"

It is starting to snow, just a little. Will looks up through the thin scatter of flakes to the low grey sky, heavy with the promise of more. "I may have," he says at last, because there is no point, no use, in lying to Merriman. There never has been.

"Who is she?"

"A mortal woman," says Will simply. "Not that there are any other kind, these days." He considers for a moment. "You know her," he says eventually, abandoning caution. "Not quite a mortal, perhaps, and yet I have not spoken to her because - what would be the point?"

"Not quite a mortal?"

"She spoke to the Greenwitch."

Merriman wheels around and stares at him through the thickening snow. "No," he says, with the beginnings of a deep unease in his eyes. "No. She was not meant for you, Old One."

**

August

Owen Davies is not surprised when Bran tells him about Jane.

"Anybody with half an eye could see it," he says with an awkward little smile. "Years ago."

"Years ago?" Bran grins. "Come on, Da. She was always sweet on Will when we were children." He leans back in his chair. "My charms were not apparent till later life," he adds gravely.

"What charms?" Owen slides a mug of tea over the kitchen table to Bran. "You're properly engaged? Have you spoken to her father?"

"This is the twentieth century," says Bran, solemn-faced.

"Bran..."

"Yes, Da. I have."

Owen relaxes visibly. "All right." He smiles, suddenly, which is so unexpected that Bran takes off his glasses and stares at him. "Must have done something right. Bringing you up. You've some manners, anyway."

Bran laughs out loud. "Got my people skills from you, Da." The sarcasm is affectionate and after a moment, Owen snorts with amusement.

"Maybe not all that many manners." He drains his mug of tea. "Staying tonight?"

"If you don't mind. I'm driving down to see Will tomorrow, though. Break the glad news."

Owen contemplates the bottom of his mug. "Ah, Will."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Used to be sweet on Jane, didn't you say?"

For a second Bran looks disconcerted, vulnerable. Then he grins. "When we were children. Come on. Will's sort of... asexual. Never had a girlfriend, that I know of. Maybe he's gay."

"Bran!"

"Or maybe not. But anyway, this is not going to be a surprise to him."

"If you say so," says Owen.

**

Bran sleeps in his childhood bed, and he dreams.

He dreams of a bearded man with sea-blue eyes.

"I have come to wish you well, Bran."

"Who are you?" says Bran, looking around. They are in Wales, on a mountainside that he knows like the lines of Jane's face, but it is not quite right. There are too many trees, and not enough cottages.

"Someone who wishes you well," says the man, smiling so that his eyes crinkle. "And who is your bride, Bran?"

Bran doesn't know why he replies. Maybe because something about the man's face is so familiar, though he can't recall ever seeing him before.

"Her name is Jane."

"Jane." The man's voice is thoughtful. "Jane. A good name. For a girl that you have known since your childhood, I think."

"How did you know that?"

"I may once have seen her. Which is to say, you have chosen well."

"I have?"

"We are not so different," says the man, and then he laughs, a rich sound that washes away Bran's wariness. "We are, I might say, very much the same."

A woman's face flashes in front of Bran's face, delicate and lovely, and involuntarily Bran cries out in surprise and longing.

"Who is she?" he demands, looking around as though she might emerge from the trees.

"My wife," says the man, and Bran stares at him.

"But I know her, I know her. Where have I seen you before?"

The bearded man puts his hand on Bran's shoulder. "In a dream, " he says mildly, but he is frowning. "I think, seeing you, I must tell you something. Perhaps that is why Me - perhaps that is why I am here. A word, as a married man, to one soon to be married, Bran."

"Yes?"

"You must trust her in everything," says the man, and Bran understands that this is a warning. "Believe me, even when you think you are betrayed, or when there are difficult times - because there will be difficult times - you must trust her in everything. She is your wife."

"My wife," echoes Bran, who has never used these words before.

The bearded man smiles suddenly. "Yes, indeed, your wife. Be happy with her, Bran, and go well."

It has the sound of a blessing.

"Will I see you again?"

"In your dreams, perhaps," says the man over his shoulder, and there is something a little sad in his voice as he disappears between the trees.

**

October

They marry on a misty day in October.

"Mist is the breath of the Brenin Llywd," Barney tells one of the three year old pageboys solemnly. "Will and Bran used to scare me with it. Didn't you, Will?" He grins at Will over their heads, and Will smiles back.

Jane comes to find Will after the service. She is bright-faced and her dress is muddy at the hem. "I'm so happy that you're here," she says, hugging him quickly. "You've been hard to track down recently."

"I know," says Will. "It won't be like that, any more. I've been busy but - I'm here to stay."

She looks seriously at him, and he thinks how little she has changed. "Bran counts you as his best friend, you know. You'll have to come and see us often."

Will puts his hands in his pockets and looks steadily at her. "I will, Jane. Next year, I think. When you and Bran are all settled down."_

She looks quickly at him. "You think - you think Bran won't want to see you. I mean, because he used to be funny about us being friends. But you're wrong. He values your friendship more than anything."

"Jane..."

"He won't be jealous. He trusts me."

"Of course he does," says Will, startled. "I didn't mean..."

She flushes. "Just come, Will. It's important to me, and Bran, and it should be important to you too."

Will gives up and smiles at her. "I don't think I'm allowed to say no to you today, am I?"

"Aren't you?" She smiles unwillingly. "Then you'd better promise. Promise not to vanish like you have been. Promise you'll always be..." She stops, frowning. "Who's that?

Will turns with her, just in time to catch sight of a shock of white hair amongst the crowd outside the church.

"He looked like someone I knew once," says Jane pensively. "But I think he died when we were children. Funny. Too much champagne. I'd better go and join them all, hadn't I?" She kisses him on the cheek before she turns, catching up her dress, hurrying back to the church door.

"Don't forget," she calls back over her shoulder, when she's almost there. "You promise, Will."

"I promise," says Will under his breath.

**

January

It is New Year's Day when Jane opens the door to Will.

"Will!" She is wearing a pair of yellow rubber kitchen gloves. When she throws her arms around his neck, soapy water trickles down his back. "You were supposed to come last night. We had a party."

"I know. I'm sorry. But I only wanted to see you two, anyway. Not your hundred closest friends."_

Jane laughs. "It was a bit crowded," she admits, looking ruefully over her shoulder at the wreckage of her living room.

She kisses him on both cheeks, pulls off her gloves and takes his arm, drawing him inside.

"I've missed you. Bran? Will's here - oh." She stops, surprised, but Will has already seen Bran, standing silently in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them from behind his dark glasses.

"Hello," says Bran slowly, and something in Will's chest constricts with unease. Bran's tone is cool, and his face is wary.

"Hello," says Will carefully, letting go of Jane's arm. "It's good to see you."

There is an odd look on Bran's face for a moment, as though he is remembering something. Then he straightens up a little and smiles. "Yeah, very good. What took you so bloody long?"

And he claps Will on the back, and laughs, and when he takes off his glasses his eyes are warm.

**

February

"How goes it, Old One?"

Will stands up from where he has been sitting on the river bank. "It goes well."

Merriman smiles at him.

"I have seen for myself. They have not changed, those two."

"They are touched by the Light," offers Will.

"They are the lineage of the Light on earth," corrects Merriman.

Will feels something move into place, the last piece of a puzzle, so that everything shifts a little and settles. "You knew. You knew this all along - Bran and Jane. When we were children even, you knew."

"I hoped," says Merriman softly. 'The time of destiny is done now. Where mortals are concerned, I may only hope. You know that, Old One."

"Hope, and perhaps help?"

Merriman puts his hands on Will's shoulders and kisses him formally on either cheek. "Now you see, Will. The task of the watchman is to protect the lineage of the Light. Just as I served my Lord, so you will serve yours, though Kings come in different guises in these times. Let us hope that you will do better than I did. And when the Dark comes rising, in a new form, with a new name, you will be there. And the descendants of the Light will be there too, just as they were before."

"I promised Jane," says Will, half to himself. "I promised her that I would always be there."

"Yes," says Merriman, and there is love and amusement in his voice. "An appropriate pledge. One that I, too, have made. In another time, to another mortal woman."

Will thinks about a woman whose lovely face he has seen only in dreams, stumbling out of Time on a Welsh mountainside in a hooded cloak. He thinks about a lonely boy, and a man with a brown beard, and enchantments made in one time and broken in another.

"You have taught me well," he says at last, and Merriman looks at him with such affection that he finds himself smiling.

"I had a good pupil. Keep them safe, and go well, Old One," he says, and Will knows with the certainty of dreams that he will not see Merriman again for quite some time.

END

 

 

 


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